I didn’t give him a chance to fire a second shot. I surged forward and slashed down with the knife, cutting into his right wrist. The silverstone blade skittered off the thick bones there. Delov howled with pain again, and the gun slid from his hand. I kicked it away, then threw myself on top of him—knife-first. I sank the blade deep into Delov’s chest, scraping against his ribs. The giant screamed and dug his left hand into my hair, yanking me back and off him. I kept hold of the knife, though, and as soon as the blade slid free of his chest, I twisted around and stabbed his arm with it. When he let go of my hair, I brought the knife back down into his chest again—and again and again, until his screams faded away and he finally quit fighting me.

When it was over and Delov was dead, I got to my feet and turned to face Fletcher, who was leaning against the desk for support. The old man looked down at Delov, then Peaches, who was sniffing his master’s body.

“I was wondering why that dog suddenly decided to come in here,” Fletcher said, lifting his green gaze to mine. “You led him and Delov straight to me, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“You used me, Gin,” he said, a note of accusation creeping into his voice. “You used me as bait for Delov. As a stalking horse.”

I winced and nodded again. “I couldn’t think of another way to take him down. I couldn’t kill him myself, not face-to-face, anyway, and I thought I’d have a better chance with a sneak attack.”

Fletcher didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at me with a thoughtful expression, as though I were some curious creature he’d never seen before.

“Are you angry with me?” I whispered, my heart twisting at the thought.

He gave me a rueful grin. “Well, I won’t deny that you gave me a scare there for a minute. But I’ll get over it. You did what you had to in order to save us both, Gin. Don’t ever apologize for that. Especially not to me. I’ve done far worse than you tonight. Used people, manipulated them, lied to them time and time again in order to accomplish my goal. Using folks, deceiving them, putting them in certain situations—it’s all part of being an assassin. If you live long enough, you’ll do worse yourself, even to folks you consider friends, maybe even to those you love. You’ll hurt them, whether by choice, chance, accident, or design.”

I shook my head. “No, I would never do something like that.”

“Sure you would. You just did. Here, tonight.”

I looked down at Delov. The answer was in the giant’s blood slowly soaking into the colorful rug underneath his body.